


Demon Dealings

by monster_simp



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demon Summoning, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Exposition, F/M, Minor Injuries, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monster_simp/pseuds/monster_simp
Summary: Basically, just a story that lets me write out demon x female crazy sex adventures. Some plot for coherency, lots of NSFW after the first chapter. Maybe some angst and romance? Who knows...
Relationships: Original Demon Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character/Reader, original demon - Relationship
Kudos: 11





	Demon Dealings

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting any written content, so fingers crossed someone somewhere likes this. Please leave feedback if you gave this a read! It would absolutely make my day.

Who would have thought that four fingers of tequila and some erotic fiction would lead you here, scrambling drunkenly around your house at 2 in the morning looking for demon summoning supplies?

Definitely not three hours ago you, the sober you. Whatever, she doesn’t know how to live anyway.

Uncooperating feet threatened to trip over just about anything as you quest for a list of items. Candles, check. Incense, check. Writing instrument for the circle, in progress. Bowl, broken. Second bowl, check. Knife, a very careful check. You fumbled through the misc drawer in the kitchen, looking for something you could use to write on the ground. Sharpie is a definite no-no in your rented house, but that and some shitty pens seem to be the only thing you’re able to find in here. A brilliant idea crosses your mind to solve your dilemma and save your floors - tape! You grab a roll of the good painter's tape and waltz to the center of the kitchen, mission successful.

You glance at the computer screen that’s currently displaying a particular type of demon summoning circle, and with roll of tape in hand you carefully (or about as carefully as a drunk can do) mimicked it on your linoleum floor.

A very tiring twenty minutes later (tingly fingers are a pain to deal with), you have it about as perfected as you can with the tape and waning patience. You turn to the counter and pour yourself one more shot, for good measure, and down it. Then you grab the half dozen candles - a few Yankee scented ones, but you gotta work with what you got - and place them evenly around the circle. You grab the bowl, incense, knife, and some sage from the cupboard, and sit in the center of the circle. Sitting criss-cross, you gingerly place the bowl right in front of your legs and shake a fair amount of the sage into the bowl - it’s ground cooking sage, and you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to use a different kind but you doubt any store with it in stock would be open this late. So fuck it, right? You’re bored, tipped as hell, and doubt this will work anyway. You place the incense stick gently atop the bowl and grab the zippo from your pocket before reaching around the circle and lighting each of the candles, and finally the incense.

“Robot, turn off the kitchen lights," you order at the ever-listening device on the countertop.

With lights off, the kitchen looks much different. The warm glow from the floor makes you feel like you’re in a different realm. Although, the tequila's probably contributing to that. You close your eyes and begin chanting lowly the words you read online. Foreign, guttural words you weren’t quite sure you were saying correctly, but you continued nonetheless. You focused on what you wanted before bringing your wrist over the bowl and gently cutting a small mark on it, letting a few drops mix with the sage that you wouldn’t be able to use for tomorrow’s breakfast. As the fourth drop hit the sage and you finished your second pass at the chant, the air went unnervingly still. Your breath felt stale and all the flames looked like they had frozen in place - not one was flickering, even just a tiny bit.

The beat of your heart was rapidly increasing as the faintest hint of sulfur permeated the air around you.  
No way. No fucking way this is really happening. Shit. Do I stop? Can I stop? What the fuck am I doing?

“Hello?” No audible response, but you feel a warmth growing around your backside and running up your arms. You shiver.

“I would like to see you,” you muster in ever so slightly slurred words. The flames flicker rapidly, dancing around like they’re doing the Macarena.

“Are you sure about that, mortal?” A deep, guttural voice - one that you guessed would have no problem with the words you used just a moment ago - echoed around the kitchen, causing your breathe to catch. 

“I... I would like to see who I summoned. You are in my home and I request that you show yourself.”

“As you wish,” it whispers ever so close to your ear. Suddenly the flames cut out, and you’re blind in the pitch-black room. You feel movement around you and then hear several heavy, almost metal sounding footsteps a few feet in front of you. You gulp. You’re not sure if you should be afraid right now. You’re more nervous, and a little queasy from the lack of food in your stomach after so much alcohol. Almost as soon as you start taking a deep breath to calm yourself, the candles roar back to life, shooting high above their glass jars and illuminating the being in front of you.

Uh oh.

He’s tall. So tall he has to hunch over a bit to keep his horns from touching the ceiling. They’re curved around and out from the sides of his head a few times, much like a ram. A little stereotypical, you think.

His skin is a deep, matte purple that looks black in this low lighting, save for the strange rippling shimmers across his body with each flick of the flames. You scan down his body slowly, taking it all in. There’s a lot of muscle. Like, a lot. His chest looks harder than a slab of metal, with intense grooves like little canyons surrounding each individual muscle. There’s a strange marking on his upper right pec that looks a little like a tattoo. A red, glowing tattoo. His hands are massive, at least to human standards, and seem fairly well proportioned to him, and each finger ends in a pointy tip. You not quite sure if that’s his nail or his flesh, but you suppose you’ll end up finding out sooner or later. You gulp again.

He chuckles for a moment, snapping your attention up to his eyes before you could continue eyeing him down. Holy smokes. Or, unholy smokes.... his eyes look like a turmoil of black and vibrant yellow swirling around each other. It’s captivating to look at.

“Are you pleased with what you see?” He quirks a brow ever so slightly.

That damned deep voice nearly makes you forget how to speak. Your heart starts beating even faster, which you didn’t even think was possible.

“Well?” There was a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. You decide to play it cool and casual, the tequila assisting in you feeling some sense of control in the situation.

“I suppose,” you shrugged. His eyes narrowed, as if being brought into a challenge. He started moving forward, circling around your little summoning spot with heavy, measured steps. Feet somewhere between human and hoof carried this massive being so elegantly around you.

“Is that so? Nothing particularly... eye-catching?” He glanced at you from the side of his eye. His tone confirmed that he was well aware of your initial stares, and you felt a little more at ease. It at least didn't seem like he was gonna do some evil demon stuff to you.

“Not really.” You feigned disinterest in the conversation, maintaining your stare in front of you, rather than at the demon slowly approaching your backside.

He paused behind you. You felt an immense warmth slowly creep down from the top of your head to your lower back. A huff of wind passed next to your ear before he whispered just a few inches away.

“I don’t believe you.” He paused for a moment. “But, if that’s the truth then I should, perhaps, send for someone else in my stead? Someone more aligned to your... desires?”

You cleared your throat. “That’s unnecessary,” you squeaked out. Oh man, your chest was heaving like crazy at this point. Would it be obtuse to just ask him to rail you right now? You had no idea what the proper dialogue is in a summoning. You decide to continue with the formal flirting until something happens, which thankfully wasn't too long.

“Good.” You can practically hear his smile. “Why don’t you tell me what exactly you summoned me here for so we can come to an agreement.”

He was still crouched behind you, warmth and sulfur surrounding every inch of your body. You took a moment trying to figure out the least crass way of phrasing this.

“I, um, summoned you here looking for... for companionship.” That was pretty clumsy... And vague. Nice going.

“Physical companionship,” you clarified.

He gave a low laugh. “I appreciate your propriety, but what you desire needs to be stated in no uncertain terms before we can make any arrangements.”

Fuck. This is awkward. It’s like he could sense your inner struggle to not phrase things like a depraved idiot, and laughed again. Too bad his laugh sounded so pleasant, otherwise you’d be getting a little pissed off at him.

“I want to have sex. A lot. For at least the remainder of this pandemic-lockdown-shittiness. I want to be physically used to the furthest possible extent — completely consensually and safely, of course. I want to explore my fantasies and kinks and provide an equal amount of pleasure to my partner. I want there to be aftercare, including but not limited to cuddling. I don’t want the...” you pause. “activities? to be limited to just this, but are primarily this.”

Your mind reeled. What else should you add?

“And I do not wish to be harmed in any way that I do not explicitly consent to.”

“Is that all?” He felt a little closer now.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Very well." His voice was even closer to your ear. "Now you may sign the contract.” A piece of yellowing parchment appeared in your lap. There were words written in a language you couldn’t decipher. A thin line ran nearly the width of the page at the bottom. “Whenever you’re ready, drop some of your blood on that line.”

Suddenly, worry and doubt clouded your mind. “But I can’t read this. How am I supposed to know what I’m agreeing to? That I’m not signing away my soul?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just what you described you desired a moment ago.” He sounded convincing enough, but...

“That’s it? What about you?”

“What about me?” He sounded puzzled.

“What do you get out of this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He questioned. You sat there, head fumbling around for an answer. “I get the pleasure of fucking you until you can’t walk straight. Every. Single. Day. Until this arrangement comes to an end.” 

God, could his voice get any lower? You could probably cum right now if he kept talking to you like that, considering how sexually unsatisfied you’ve been for the better part of a year. His voice, practically dripping with lust, was plenty of motivation for you to take the knife and reopen your recent wound and let a little more of your blood drip out and onto the contract. Fuck, you really hope he was being honest about what’s on this thing.

In a flash, the contract disappears and the flames return to their normal size and flickering tendency. Just as soon as you’re about to turn around, you feel a pointed finger trace down your spine - unfortunately for your curiosity, unable to tell if the point is nail or flesh. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you. His hot breath is on your neck the next moment and you’re suddenly feeling very flushed.

“I cannot wait... “ he breaths out. You lean back a touch. It’s been so long since you’ve had physical contact with another person, and it’s so easy for you to want to give in to him completely, even if this whole thing isn’t the best decision you’ve ever made. “to feel every inch of you.” You lean back a teeny bit more. His finger strokes back up the side of your arm. “But tonight...” you pause and start squinting your eyes in confused frustration. “You need to rest.”

You start to turn to protest, to tell him that that’s very much untrue, and you’ve been sitting here this entire conversation under the assumption that this would be happening tonight. But then he grabs your shoulder, gently but firmly, with his hand and stops you.

“You need to rest off the influence of alcohol.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “I cannot take you until you are of clear and sound mind to give your consent.” You can’t really argue with that one, even if you really wanted to. You do give an indignant huff though.

He laughs. “Don’t worry, there will be plenty of time tomorrow to make up for tonight.”

You finally turn around and face him, eyes almost level as he squats on the floor with his very thick legs. You nearly drool. Your eyes linger on his legs for just a second too long and his eyes glint a little.

“I don’t need to make up for just one night, I need to make up for eight months,” you say, definitely trying to do so in a suggestive tone. He smiles devilishly.

“I love a challenge.”


End file.
